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by QwertyKiddo
Summary: Each chapter highlights the romance between a variety of female, LoL champions- with a twist: a top lane, poisonous, Yordle, serial killer is rampant in Runeterra. Read for love, laugh, or terror- anything could and /will/ happen. Comment


Ashe sank deeply into the lush fabrics of her bed. Swallowed by the luscious, maroon fabrics that tryndamere had so forcibly gifted her, she peered out the window of the secluded, Freljordian cabin. Snow was falling at the standardly seemless rate, covering the once-fresh tracks of the forest creatures. It was almost noon, and she expected an envoy to come at any moment, carrying her away from the two room cabin she wished she could call home.

She gradually got up, started the steamy water for her daily shower, and began to read a story regarding the might of Noxus. Despite her Freljordian attachments, Ashe felt an unwavering loyalty to all factions of the league, likely due to her interactions with so many varying champion representatives. On the cover, a silhouette of Darius, the hand of Noxus, showed the suggestively gruesome death of one of Noxus' enemies.

Ashe found Darius to be enigmatic; she had rarely met him within summoners rift, and when she had, he had been easily kited by her frosty shots or defeated by her husband in the top lane at level 6. Nonetheless, he was dashingly mighty, confident in his strides, and from what she heard, brutal in bed.

Tryndamere and Ashe had made love, yes, but his paradoxically uncharacteristic tendency to be unable to sustain his side of the bedroom bargain, despite his undying rage, had made their relationship grow frosty. Her devices need to be sated, and these quiet moments in her isolated cabin suited her need for both privacy and intimacy quite well. No, she would never dare to sustain an extramarital relationship within the confines of her home, yet a relationship with herself had blossomed and ignited an ember within the frost archer.

The shower continued to pelt down beads of water on her empty tub as she continued to read about the Noxian successes. These stories fueled her fantasies; not only did she want to be conquered, she wanted to be emblazoned with lust. The steam from her empty shower started to fog her shivering window frames, and Ashe knew that the growing pressure within herself would burst with her entry into the chamber of steam.

Ashe threw down the Noxian propaganda pamphlet along with the light blue silk panties that had restricted her passion within their silky confines for far too long. Climbing onto the bed, she removed her creamy shirt, casting it next to the matching silky bra that had long been released from containing her. She wrestled with the blankets momentarily, then took a snowy white pillow and placed it between her legs, holding the pillow with a leg-locked vice grip. From here, she began to grope her two succulent breasts, each churn deeper than the last. With steady friction from the pillow and her ivory nails, she stimulated her erogenous zones in a manner fit for the queen. She started to squeeze and hump the life force out of the pillow, dampening its edges with her growing lust. She began to scan every section of her body with her fingers, starting by streaking her nails through her icy hair, flipping her breasts upward and inward, and sliding her hands along the split of her butt and womanhood.

All the while, the steam grew stronger, indicative of Ashe's growing addiction to fiery lust.

She imagined many male and female summoners and champions to take the role of the suffocating pillow, vigorously humping and arching her spine to create as much friction and pleasure as possible. The steam coated her glossy skin and breasts, drawing beads of water and sweat that trailed from the pointy tips of her nipples all the way down to her squirming legs and pillow, eliciting goosebumps and deep moans from the horny archer.

She released the pillow from her legs' embrace then got up and began to straddle it once more. Placing the picture of Darius underneath her emerging shadow on the bed, she began to thrust her womanhood onto the pillow once more, breasts flinging upward and outward with the hanging force of gravity and the pendulum humps of desire. She felt the beads of liquid flick off her nipples, steam now visible in the two room cabin.

Her climax was near and she began free her fingers from the clench on her luscious breasts. Using her head to prop her up and continue her grinding, dominating motions, Ashe placed her left pinky finger along the edge of her ass. Slowly entering the light pink hole, she began to explicitly groan for release, stimulating as many orifices of her goddess-like body with the constant pressure of steam and the omnipresence of ice. She began to convulse on the lucky, asphyxiated pillow, releasing shouts of pleasure, bringing a smile to her stunning face and releasing a steady trail of liquid onto her thighs. She thought that the shower would be her only means of-

The dark brown, carved, wooden door slams open in the front of her lodge. Ashe is drowning in sensational pleasure, failing to perceive what recently happened. The insulated, steamy pressure from the room flees towards the outside, freezing air, drastically lowering to temperature of the room. Ashe screams as the beads of perspiration and steam shift to shrapnels of ice on her flesh, more mortified than she is cold.

She sees nothing, calms her breathing, and begins to attribute the opening door due to the extreme temperature and pressure gradient her impromptu steam chamber made in the arctic-like environment.

Placing the semi-drenched pillow in her stack of dirty laundry, she begins to search for her bra.

A quiet laugh, no, a giggle-

She had heard this before, faintly linking it to her memories of summoners rift.

She took another step closer towards to discarded clothing.

And

"Honor the Scout's code!"

Teemo lunged from his stealthed position on top of her bra, grabbing her nipples with two sets of his pinching fingers. Ashe shrieked, unable to process the sudden attack of the furry, satanic Yordle. He bit into her neck, bloods spilling sporadically over the wrestling two. She screamed for mercy and help, as teemo's lust for blood overtook him. Shoving his blowgun up recently climaxed vagina, Teemo began to blow swift streams of air into the bleeding-out archer, rivaling the technique of the most skilled Ionian flutists. Then, he took a crimson dart, inserted it into the vaginally inserted blowgun, and promptly blew the dart deeply into her cervix. Ashe cringed, moaned, orgasmed, then immediately fell asleep, convulsing around teemo's trusty blowgun which was swiftly thrust out of the archer.

Ashe's limp, nude body was dragged by the Yordle across various animal hides to the front of the cabin.

Teemo chanted quietly, smiled cheerily, planted a rotating mushroom on the cabin threshold, and teleported Ashe far from her Freljordian getaway.

Four minutes later, Tryndamere and his envoy arrive to retrieve Ashe. She had runaway again, yet he knew he must give her time to herself on these impromptu isolated retreats of hers.

He stumbles upon seeing the door flung open, allowing sharp, cold air to penetrate the confines of his wife. Something is wrong.

He slowly steps forward, signaling his men to go through other entrances. He stopped at the doorframe, seeing blood and clothes spilled across the many animal hides that donned the wooden floor.

Tryndamere's blood began to ignite, and a low, throaty shout began to emerge from his throat.

"AaaaaaAAATROXXXXXXXXXXXX"

Flocks of birds flew from trees and small avalanches began to rumble.

Tryndamere took one step forward with his undying rage when instantly the shroom land mine obliterated his position, setting off other explosive devices stationed throughout the structure of the building in a cascading and deafening series. All of Tryndamere's men died to noxious respiratory poisons, falling wood, and the blasts from the shroom mine fields.

With only an ounce of life force left in the King due to his rage, Tryndamere fell to his knees, suddenly cognizant of the awakened messenger of satan.

He fell down into the snow and splintering shrapnels of wood, quietly

whispering

"Teemo."

-Greetings! I have been an unspoken member of this community for a little while and thought I should share a rather interesting series of tales regarding the (in)famous top lane terror, Teemo.

I will have a series of one shot stories like this then amalgamate them into a series regarding the subplot of the hostages' allies (ie Tryndamere). LEAVE A COMMENT. But honestly TAKE 8 SECONDS and LEAVE A REVIEW. I will work only off our your guys' suggestions! So give me victims who you find attractive or situations that would be fun to read xD ! Otherwise, I will use rng to make the story original. (Comment tho- l)

C:

-QwertyKid


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